


Taking the Fall

by usedupshiver



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Prison, Blood, Literature, M/M, Prison, Prison Sex, Protective Loki, Reading, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony isn't Iron Man, Tony-centric, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedupshiver/pseuds/usedupshiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone expects Tony to end up eaten alive sooner rather than later when he is put in the same cell as the Lyesmith, a man so dangerous even the members of his former gang are afraid to come after him. But sometimes it might actually be wise to just grin in the face of danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> (This was supposed to be a little tiny ficlet on the prompt "meeting in prison". Yeah, no, that didn't work out the way I planned it...)

”Oh, shit... You're joking, right?” The inmate who had been given the task of showing Tony to his cell – because apparently that's the way it was done here – stopped in his tracks and stared at him with wide eyes, which seemed to almost fill his boyish face. ”They put you with the _Lyesmith_?”

”The what?” Tony frowned at the man. What was his name again? Yeah, Barton, that was it. Then he turned the frown on the paper in his hand. ”This says Laufeyson.”

”Yeah, no-one calls him that.” Barton said it in a way that clearly meant 'no-one who wants so stay alive and in possession of all their teeth', while slowly shaking his head. ”It's Lyesmith in here. And that's L-Y-E, by the way. Not L-I-E. There's a story behind that name and _trust me_ ”, Barton leaned in closer as he put emphasis on every word, ” _you don't want to hear it_.”

Staring, Tony nodded and swallowed. He was notoriously curious, but he somehow felt that it might be a really good idea to listen to this particular piece of advice.

Chuckling in a way that gave Tony shivers, Barton turned and started walking again. ”Fresh meat with the Lyesmith... Damn... The warden must hate you.” He glanced over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised.

The dark face of the warden – leather patch covering one eye, the one still there staring at him as if he was something the cat had eaten and then thrown up on the best rug right in front of the dinner guests – passed by Tony's inner eye. He cleared his throat. ”I'm pretty sure he's not a fan.”

”No shit.” Barton shook his head, but kept talking as they walked through bare, gray hallways, rooms and corridors, just as gray daylight falling in through barred windows here and there. ”The Lyesmith used to be with the Asgardians. You must know about them?”

He looked over and waited for Tony to nod before he continued, even though it was just a formality. Of course he did. Maybe he was new to this prison thing, but he hadn't been blind and deaf his whole life before he ended up here. He knew the name of the gang that more or less ran the dark, underground, outlawed part of the world. And that was on the outside. Here, on the inside? Here they were basically gods.

”When he came here, something happened – don't ask me what because no-one knows – and he broke it off, completely. Which should have been, you know...” Barton turned enough to show Tony when he made a face and dragged a finger over his throat.

”Suicide”, Tony supplied. Yeah, obviously.

”But he's still kicking.” With a shrug, the inmate faced forward again. ”Some say Thor's still got his back, no matter what.” He didn't have to explain who the leader of the whole group of merry criminals was. ”Others say he's working for Thanos these days, though.” Another name in no need of explanation – just the drug lord to end all drug lords. ”But I kind of doubt it. One of Thanos' guys traded the Lyesmith some really nasty stuff a while back, and the dude got it bad. I mean bad.” Barton turned his head again to glance at Tony, to show how serious he was. ”They found him tied to the bed with his own sheets, and someone had force fed him his entire stash. All of it. It was a mess. The whole corridor reeked of the guy for a week.”

Tony blinked. ”And _he_ did that?” It felt wrong to use the nickname Barton applied to the man, like it was some fucked up sort of title.

”Well, obviously no-one knows for sure.” Even from behind, Barton's shrug was clear, and also his meaning; no-one knew for sure, but everyone still knew. ”Well, there you are.” He stopped so suddenly that Tony almost walked into him, and pointed at the open door of a cell a few yards away. ”Home sweet home.” The smirk he gave Tony was sharp, but also a tiny bit compassionate.

And fuck if that wasn't really worrying.

”Yeah, well, thanks. I guess.” Tony hugged the bundle of sheets he was carrying closer to his chest, and eyed the door. ”See you around, Barton.”

The inmate with the sandy hair just slapped a hand to the back of his shoulder, turned, and walked away with steps even quicker than the ones that had led Tony there.

When he was out of sight, Tony turned back to the open door down the corridor, swallowed, and made himself stand up straight, shoulders back, chest out, chin up. He pulled in a slow breath and started walking again. Maybe there was some sort of monster waiting for him in there, all claws and fangs and ready to pounce, but damnit, he was Tony Stark! He wasn't going to cower and bow and scrape. Fuck no! So he was considered 'fresh meat' in here, but he wasn't some helpless little weakling, and he'd make sure anyone who didn't already know it learned, and fast too.

He didn't stop outside the doorway to knock or wait or even to glance inside to get a look at what was waiting for him. No, Tony just stepped into the cell like he owned it, and came to a halt in the middle of the small, open space it offered. Across from the door was a window, letting in some light through thick glass and heavy metal bars, and below it stood a simple desk and a chair. Against the walls on either side of him were beds. Not exactly king size, but actually not as horribly narrow and rickety as he would have expected. 

And on the bed on the left, there was a man sitting with his back against the wall, long legs crossed like a tailors, and hands holding a book slowly lowering to rest in his lap while he looked up at Tony. He was of course dressed in the same simple, blue-gray clothes as Tony himself was, but he had kicked his shoes off and his long, thin feet were just in white socks on the sheets. The man's black hair was tied up by the nape of his neck, which left a clear view of his pale, sharp features. High cheekbones throwing dangerous shadows over his sunken cheeks, a long nose, narrow lips, black eyebrows moving together in a questioning little knot over large eyes, almost glowing green even in the dim lighting.

”Hey.” Tony summoned up his cockiest grin, held the bundle of sheets with his left hand and raised his right in a nonchalant little wave. 

The black brows knotted together harder. ”And who might you be?” Whatever Tony had expected of the man's voice, it wasn't the silky smooth and rich, yet clearly articulate thing flowing out of that thin mouth like honey. It clashed with the chill of his face.

”Your new roommate, by the look of it”, Tony said and pulled the paper from his left hand, turning to offer it to the man on the bed.

For a moment the pale man eyed the paper, then Tony's face, before he took one slim, almost elegant hand from the book he had been holding and reached for the paper, which clearly stated that yes, this was Tony Stark and he was indeed supposed to live in this cell, with this guy, most likely for the rest of their lives. However long that might be. When the green eyes had passed over the few lines of text they came up to Tony's face again. The tense knot between the black brows was gone, and one of them was now raised in what might have been an amused arch.

”I thought your face was familiar”, the velvety voice admitted. ”Although I had never imagined I would get to see it this close.” A slight curve of a smile shaped a corner of his mouth, the lips so light pink they were barely darker than the white skin around them. ”Mr. Stark.”

Something about how that voice handled his name made what felt like icewater run down Tony's spine. It gave him chills and shivers, but he hid it, happy for the long sleeves on his shirt covering up the way every single hair on his arms was suddenly standing up. He applied the usual bravado over it instead, and made his grin even wider.

”That's me.” He raised two fingers to his forehead in a little salute. ”But since we're gonna be here a while, it's fine with just Tony.”

He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to call this guy, though. Obviously his family name was not an option, for whatever reason, and Tony had never gotten a first name off the paper. Barton had never mentioned it either, and fuck if he was calling his cellmate 'Lyesmith'. It just felt plain wrong.

While he was still thinking about this problem, the man on the bed closed the book, put it to the side on the thin covers he had been sitting on, and straightened his legs so he could slide to the edge of the bed and stand up. That put him so close that Tony took half a step back before he could stop himself. Damn, the guy was tall! But also, Tony noticed with surprise, not at all built like he had expected someone until recently associated with the Asgardians to be; they were all known for being huge and heavy, and this man was slim, even looking lanky under the loose folds of his prison outfit. Standing there with his arms hanging relaxed by his sides, head a bit tilted to the side, he just seemed so completely unassuming, and, well... harmless.

Maybe Barton had this guy confused with someone else? Tony had a hard time combining the information he had received on the way here, with the impression he got from the man standing in front of him now.

A long hand came up then, held out towards him in a clear invitation to shake it, the white palm tilted a bit up so the sight of the empty hand worked as a sign of peace. ”You can call me Loki”, the man offered, along with the hand.

Loki. Yeah, that worked. A lot better than Lyesmith. And it suited him. Sort of strangely archaic and exotic, and both smooth and sharp around the edges at the same time. So Tony turned his grin down a notch, shifted it into a smile, and reached out to catch the offered hand and shake it. He wasn't a huge fan of handshakes with strangers, but he had a feeling he needed to make an actual effort to make a good impression here. They were sort of in this for life – literally – and it would get unbearable really fast if they couldn't get along, at least enough to be civil to each other. The long, slim fingers felt cool against his, but they weren't disgustingly limp, and didn't grip him painfully hard or anything either, just pleasantly firm in the way Tony preferred handshakes to be.

”Nice to meet you, Loki”, he found himself saying, almost automatically.

That earned him a more noticeable curve of the guy's pale lips. ”The same to you, Tony.” Then the long fingers let go, and Loki turned to get back down on the bed, picking up the book he had left before the greeting. He settled with his back against the wall, folded up his legs the same way, and shielded himself behind the book once more.

Tony read the title on the worn cover and blinked. _Crime and Punishment_? Really? Did people even read books like that outside of a college or university where they were forced to? And in prison, on top of that? He was just about to open his mouth and say something about it, but decided it was a lot smarter not to, and for once managed to do the smart thing instead of the impulsive thing. So he shut his lips tight, turned to his own bed, and set to work getting the sheets and pillowcase he had been given into place.

All done, Tony stood staring at the bed for a moment, at the white sheets with a hint of gray after too many uses, the frame which was about a third of the width he was used to, and the gray wall beside it, marred with years of painted over markings and writing and scratches. His bed, now. His wall.

Home sweet home...

* * *

With every passing day Tony became more certain that Barton had just been trying to pull one over on the new guy when he'd told those stories about his cellmate-to-be, most likely getting a laugh out of messing with his head and trying to scare him. And yeah, Tony was even willing to admit that it had sort of worked; he had been scared. At least a little. But now that was passing and he was pretty damn sure that there was nothing at all wrong with the man sleeping in the bed across from his.

Loki was a quiet sort of guy. He mostly kept to his side of the cell, he read a lot, talked very little, and when he did speak it was always with that same soft, silky and calm voice he had used when they first met. He moved the same way, Tony learned; slow and elegant and like a predator, not wasting energy in the movements, but never threatening in any way. After stepping up to offer his hand for a shake he stayed out of arm's reach as much as was possible in the limited space they shared, and Tony was soon as relaxed in his barely noticeable company as he could be.

Which of course meant he was still pretty tense and uncomfortable about basically never, ever being alone, but relaxed enough to admit that it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

The door to their cell was open for twelve hours a day, allowing them to come and go as they pleased within the communal areas of the block, but Tony mostly chose to stay in the cell anyway. They had their own tiny little toilet by the cell, so except for mealtimes and the occasional trip to the showers or to catch a bit of fresh air in the yard, he had no reason to leave, and after he decided that Loki wasn't dangerous it felt safer there than walking around in the open.

A rummage through the desk, which Loki never seemed to make use of, turned out a stack of blank papers, with just the name of the prison printed at the top, and a couple of the flexible sort of pens they couldn't turn into weapons and stab each other to death with. After that he spent hours bent over the scarred wooden surface and did what he would have done if he had still been at home; drew blueprints, sketches, made calculations, lost himself in creating things that would never be anything but ideas on a paper, now that this was all he had. When he was deep in his own thoughts he sometimes still noticed that Loki stood by his elbow, watching over his shoulder, but it didn't bother him. It was too unobtrusive to matter, and Loki never said anything, just checked what he was doing and then moved away. Probably curious. Tony could relate.

At mealtimes they usually walked together to the mess hall, and since no-one ever got close or chose to sit at the same table as Loki, Tony stayed in that empty bubble too. Loki didn't seem to mind, as long as he kept a distance and his mouth shut. But Tony did notice the long looks that drifted their way when Loki's back was turned. Or rather, the looks that drifted Tony's way. He guessed it was because he was the new guy, the fresh meat, and also a pretty damn familiar face to most of them, most likely. Although sometimes even his inflated ego had to shift aside and admit that many of the looks also had the quality of people watching someone share a meal with a wild animal, something that might at any time decide you're competition for the food and rip your throat out. And at those times he again remembered Barton's stories and warnings and wondered what the hell he was missing.

* * *

When the peace Tony had started to take for granted was at last broken, it felt like such a cliché that he would have laughed if it hadn't been so damn terrifying.

He had been on the inside for just over two weeks now, and it was starting to feel like... well, not home, but like he knew the place. He found his way around, many faces were familiar, he had started to form a daily routine and was settling in nicely. The days passed in slow boredom, but he was as comfortable as he could be, under the circumstances.

And then they came for him. In the showers. Fuck, how unimaginative! But of course it made sense, and Tony knew it as soon as he turned from the spray of water to realize that he was crowded against the wet tile wall behind him by five men forming an uneven semi-circle around him. Here he wasn't just naked, but completely helpless and defenseless. Nothing to hide behind, not even cloth, and nothing to pick up in an attempt to fight them off. Of course they were just as naked as he was, but that didn't matter; the simple fact that there was one of him and five of them was all they needed. And they likely believed in fair fights about as much as Tony believed in Santa.

Tony remembered the thoughts he'd had on that first day, about how he would teach anybody in doubt that he wasn't a weakling. Yeah, no, that wasn't how it worked, and he knew it now. Sure he could fight them – and one-on-one he might have taken any of them, even though they were mostly huge mountans of fleshy muscle – but he couldn't win anything by doing so. Not even respect. They would just break him down harder.

”So, the little troublemaker ended up here after all.” The least heavy and hulking man in the group, a blond guy who would have been sort of handsome if not for a broken nose and a really nasty smirk, stepped closer. Despite being nearly half the size of the biggest man there, he seemed to be the leader. ”We were afraid they'd send you to death row.” He stepped all the way up to Tony, making him back into the freezing cold wall. ”Then we'd never get a chance to meet you, face to face.”

The next moment he showed a complete lack of interest in Tony's face, though, when he grabbed him and with fast, relentless movements turned him around and pressed his chest and cheek against the tiles. Instinct made Tony resist, press his palms against the wall and try to push away, but there was no use, really. He was trapped with huge, strong hands pressing him in place, the man's body moving in to help the hands along, backed up by the knowledge that four even bigger men were waiting to step in if they were needed.

”Always nice to meet the fans”, Tony muttered into the tile, as always unable to keep his mouth shut when he really, really should.

”Oh, we're fans all right”, the blond man chuckled. One of his knees forced its way in between Tony's thighs, beginning to kick them apart. ”We've had some great use for your work. Until you messed it all up.”

Trying desperately to keep his legs together Tony pressed harder on the wall, curving his back up to try to push the man away with a shield of shoulder blades and vertebrae. But the hands on him just ripped his own off the wall, holding his arms by his sides instead, and suddenly he was up against the wall so hard he could barely breathe.

”We were pretty disappointed, to say the least.” The knee came back, harder this time, and Tony had to move his feet just to keep his balance. ”So we're here to demand compensation.”

He tried hard to ignore the chuckles behind his back, from the men he couldn't see. He knew he should have expected something like this to happen, but it was one thing to know in theory that he was likely to run into people in prison who weren't happy with his latest life choices, and another to really understand what that meant. What it was like to have a hateful stranger breathing down your neck and letting you know you were fucked. In every sense of the word.

Yeah, this wasn't going to be pretty. Tony felt his heartbeat pound against the wall in front of him and tried to swallow, but his throat felt tied shut. At least that meant he couldn't get himself into even more trouble by saying something sassy; maybe his body's only form of self-defense at the moment.

”That is quite enough, Fandral.” The smooth, soft, calm voice filling the room then was very familiar to Tony by now, even though the name it had spoken wasn't. The way the blond man's hands on his arms stilled in their efforts to push him up against the tiles gave him the clue he needed to figure out who it belonged to, though.

”You stay out of this, Loki”, the blond guy said by Tony's ear, but loud enough that Loki should be able to hear it echo off the wall. ”I don't have to obey you anymore.”

”Of course not”, Loki agreed, almost pleasantly. ”Perhaps you should consider doing so anyway?”

There came a growl from one of the other four men then. ”You know what Stark did, right? He killed off Stane.”

”And?” Loki sounded one inch away from bored now.

”Stop acting stupid!” Tony felt Fandral turn half around, probably to glare at the man he was speaking to. ”You know what that means!”

”Oh, Fandral, you are such a child.” It came out on a tired sigh. ”Trust you to need an explanation of the risks in dealing with a man selling what doesn't belong to him.”

There were some mutterings and grumbles behind Tony at that, but the hands holding him still didn't let up.

Slow steps came a little bit closer on the wet floor. ”A man can't be blamed for protecting what is _his_.” There was no missing the emphasis Loki put on the last word; it was too dark and heavy with portents of doom to be ignored.

In the silence that followed, Tony could actually hear the click in Fandral's throat when he swallowed. Still, he didn't move. No-one moved. And Tony himself didn't dare to try. Then, so fast he barely understood what happened, one of Fandral's hands was off his arm and fisting in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him back, and then smashing his forehead into the tile. Everything in front of his eyes turned blinding white and red, and the next time he was aware of himself and his surroundings he realized that he was on his knees, slumped over and nearly leaning against the wall. There were drops of blood on the white floor between his legs, and he felt something warm run down his temple and cheek. The hit must have split his forehead open. He hoped it was just the skin, but the pain made him ready to believe the bone was cracked.

When a hand came to rest on his shoulder he flinched and turned, and then groaned at the pain the movement caused. But he had blinked his eyes clear enough to see that the man crouched down by his side was Loki, just in time to feel the cool hand move up to catch his chin and turn his head more, probably to get a look at the state of his forehead. The touch wasn't soft and gentle, but it wasn't rough either.

”Can you see my brain from there?” Tony grunted the question out, mostly to hide the fact that he was genuinely worried.

”You'll be fine.” The fingers on his chin let him go, then the hand caught his arm and pulled at him as Loki moved to stand. ”Come on. Let's get something to cover it up with. You're bleeding like a stuck pig.”

”Yeah, head wounds tend to do that”, Tony muttered. With the other hand scrabbling for support on the wall he at last got to his feet. The pain once more nearly blinded him, but in the end he managed to shuffle along as Loki led him out of the shower room and into the changing room where he placed Tony on a bench and disappeared, only to return with a handful of paper towels that he pressed against Tony's head. He got his own hand up to hold the huge wad of paper in place, and nodded that he had it, so Loki could let go.

They sat quietly like that while the wound slowly stopped bleeding. Loki had to go for more paper twice before it clotted enough that Tony could stop pressing on it. By then he looked like he had walked naked through a slaughter house, and Loki's hands were spotted with red as well, but they didn't move from the bench anyway.

It wasn't until then that Tony really noticed that Loki was naked too. It sort of made sense that he was, since he'd found Tony being assaulted in the showers, but he hadn't thought about it before. Glancing over now, he saw that Loki was just as pale all over as his face and hands were, but he wasn't quite as soft and lanky as Tony had thought when he had seen him dressed. Sure, he wasn't bulky, but what flesh there was on his long bones was firm, flat muscle and nothing else. When he was leaning forward the only thing folding on his midriff was skin. He didn't seem to have any fat on him at all.

Suddenly Tony remembered the last thing he had heard before he had his head bashed open against the tiles, and let his eyes drop to the floor. ”So”, he got out and then had to clear his throat. ”I'm yours, am I?”

There came a dry little sigh from Loki. ”I'm sorry. That was the easiest way to get them away from you.”

Tony felt a little huff of laughter force its way out of him at that. ”Yeah, well, I don't see why you need to apologize for that, really. I mean I've bled all over the place, but it could have been a lot worse.” He finally raised his head to glance at Loki then, and found the green eyes studying him with a serious, intent gaze. He blinked. ”What?”

”Sometimes I forget how new you are in here”, the honeyed voice told him.

It didn't take long for Tony to figure it out. ”I see.” He leaned back against the wall, letting his head drop back, very carefully, still with his eyes on Loki's face. ”We'll need to act like I am, or they'll know you bluffed.”

The serious look on Loki's face slowly shifted into a very slight smile, and a glint came into his eyes that Tony could almost call impressed. ”What do you know?”, he murmured. ”I believe I can see your brain from here, after all.”

* * *

If it had felt like Tony lacked his own space before, it was nothing compared to how it was now. He and Loki barely took a step without the other close by. 

During meals they were no longer casually seated at opposite sides and ends of the same table. Now Tony was expected to sit right next to Loki, so close their elbows touched every time they moved. They still didn't talk while they ate, but Tony noticed that the long looks his way had changed. No-one seemed confused by how he had tamed the beast anymore. Or maybe how the beast had tamed him? He wasn't sure. He tried not to think too much about that, actually.

When he wanted to go outside into the yard, Loki had to follow. They didn't have to be so attached at the hip out there, because there were more guards watching the inmates outside than inside, but Tony couldn't wander off too far anyway. It was like Loki's claimed ownership over him had placed some sort of invisible leash on him. It would be respected only as long as he kept inside the radius it covered; outside of that, he would still be fair game.

Going alone to the showers? Yeah, forget it. And that was the only time this arrangement really bothered Tony. It was one thing changing his place at the table and accepting that he suddenly had a tall, pale shadow following him everywhere he went, but when they were naked sharing a shower, it was difficult to forget what this little act of theirs was really about. Especially the time that Fandral and his gang happened to walk in while they were there, and Loki without so much as a word or a hint of hesitation pulled Tony's back to his chest with a firm movement, and then went on to wash Tony's hair. He was damn sure he was blushing from head to foot when the gentle fingertips ran circles over his scalp, and he was happy he could close his eyes to protect them from the running shampoo and didn't have to meet anyone's eyes. He felt like some sort of lapdog. It was probably the most humiliating thing he had ever had to live through voluntarily.

But yeah, it was still better than being raped by a bunch of guys who were pissed because he had killed a man to save his own life... A lot better.

The time they spent in their cell wasn't as relaxed as it had been either, even though it was nowhere near as bad as the showers. He still sat hunched over the desk a lot of the time, drawing and writing, and that appeared to be allowed, but when he wasn't busy doing his own thing he was expected to sit curled up by Loki's side on the bed. Even when Loki was reading and really didn't want to be disturbed.

It took a while, but in the end he became used to just sitting with his back against the wall, wedged in under Loki's arm, which was draped over his shoulders. Often it just rested there, still and heavy in relaxation, but sometimes – mostly if people were moving outside and might glance inside – his arm would curl up so that his long fingers could play with Tony's hair. The soft, absent movements got sort of hypnotic after a while, and more than once Tony actually fell asleep like that, his head dropping to rest against Loki's pectoral.

Most of all, it made him even more bored than he had been, made him feel even more locked up and guarded and, strangely, more alone. He spent hours as close to Loki's side as he could get, but they spoke as little as they had before and Tony felt lonely. Before, he hadn't exactly had friends in here, but some people had talked to him occasionally. People like Barton, who seemed curious enough to seek his company now and then. Now, of course, that was all over. One look at the way Loki towered so possessively over him, and Barton had turned on his heel and disappeared.

And one huge, worrying question kept rolling around in the back of Tony's mind: Why was Loki doing this? What was in it for him? Tony couldn't figure it out, and he lived in fear of the day Loki would grow as bored and claustrofobic as Tony felt by all this, and push him back out into the cold. And he didn't think it was that farfetched that Loki would get tired of this, because he had seemed as interested in keeping his personal space as Tony had.

In the end he couldn't keep the question in anymore, so one slow, quiet afternoon, when they were in their usual place on Loki's bed, he found himself sighing into the blue-gray fabric covering Loki's chest, before the words tumbled out. At least he managed to keep his voice quiet, so only the man he was leaning into would hear.

”Why are you doing this?”

The fingertips that had been drawing meaningless little patterns on the outside of his upper arm suddenly stilled. He could feel and hear Loki's head turn, probably to look down at him, but Tony stayed ducked down so he wouldn't have to show his face. Then Loki sighed too. ”You weren't afraid.”

Tony frowned into Loki's shirt. ”What? In the showers?” If Loki thought that, then he must be a much better actor than he had ever guessed; he'd been scared out of his mind.

He felt the slight chuckles more than heard them. ”No”, Loki murmured, ”of me.”

”Oh.” The little noise of understanding slipped out between Tony's lips before he could stop it. Because yeah, of course he got it now. How could he not?

If he had felt lonely since Loki had taken him under his wing, that had to be nothing compared to how lonely Loki must have been until Tony turned up in the cell and without much hesitation agreed to shake his hand. No-one in the entire block dared to get within spitting distance of Loki. All he had was enemies who were sufficiently afraid of whoever might still have his back that they had decided not to end him. And then there were all the rest of them, whispering scary stories about him, too afraid of him on his own to do anything but turn and run when he got close.

He hadn't been able to figure out what Loki got out of their deal, but that was probably because it had been too obvious; it was more or less exactly what it looked like on the box – what Loki got out of this, was Tony. He had someone around who didn't cringe and flinch when he touched him, someone who answered freely when he spoke, someone who had been prepared to give him perhaps the only honest chance he would ever get again. Yeah, sure, it had been because Tony had been just ignorant enough to not understand where he had ended up, but it had still given Loki what he had needed – normal, human interaction. Or at least the closest approximation possible in here.

This wasn't how the other inmates thought Tony had earned Loki's protection, but it was close enough to a coin they could understand the value of that they respected the arrangement for what they thought it was. If they had known that Loki in fact wasn't extracting the payment they expected, they probably wouldn't have.

All because Tony had decided to play tough and not let Barton's horror stories get to him. Wait... Did that mean that his habit of acting cocky had actually _saved_ his ass for once? Huh... How about that?

They didn't say anything else then. Tony just stayed where he was, and relaxed a bit more while leaning into Loki's side than he usually did. And when the door to their cell was locked, the time when Tony usually took the chance to slip away and return to his own bed, since no-one could see them anymore, he still stayed. 

It seemed to take a while before Loki noticed, but then Tony saw the hands holding the book he had spent the afternoon reading sink down into his lap. There came a hint of another sigh, and then Loki's free hand, the one that wasn't already resting around Tony's body, slipped in to catch his chin and tilt his head back until Loki could see his face. When their eyes met, Loki seemed to search his for a moment. ”Are you going to begin fearing me now?” The question was still nearly a whisper; perhaps he was afraid someone might be listening in even now.

Tony didn't have to hesitate. He just shook his head in the light hold the cool fingers had on him. Not because he was fool enough to think that Loki actually wasn't dangerous. No, he knew now that he had made a mistake when he'd thought him harmless. He was sure Loki could be cold and hard and relentless and as cruel as he needed to be, and he definitely wouldn't want to be his enemy. But he was damn sure that he would have to prove to be an enemy before Loki would turn on him. In no way did he think Loki was insane. Tony didn't think Loki would wake up one day and randomly decide to throttle him in his sleep. Especially not now, when he had figured out that Loki needed him, maybe even on a deeper level than Tony had known he himself needed Loki. It wouldn't make sense for Loki to harm someone he was after all putting himself through a whole lot of hassle to keep around.

Loki looked like he wasn't completely convinced, but in the end he nodded, let go of Tony and picked his book up again. But not before Tony got a glimpse of the cover. It was a simple, brown thing with the golden siluette of a rabbit on the front, just below the title - _Watership Down_. Frowning again, Tony sat up straighter under Loki's arm, until he wasn't leaning into him at all anymore, which earned him a questioning glance from the green eyes.

”Isn't that a kid's book?” Well, he'd just denied being afraid of Loki, hadn't he? And he was sure he remembered seeing at least part of a cartoon with the same title once.

A small smile pulled at the corner of Loki's mouth, before he slowly shook his head. ”The fact that it's about rabbits doesn't mean it's about rabbits, Tony.”

He thought about it, and then shrugged. ”Yeah, I'm not about the artsy things. I'm all for science. I like the facts to be the facts.”

”So I have noticed.” The smile on the pale lips widened a hint, before Loki's eyes returned to the book. 

Tony leaned in and wedged himself under the long arm again, while Loki explained to him how it was a story about daring and bravery, about great adventure and great escapes, and about the love between brothers – even when one of them was the great hero and leader, and the other the runt of the litter, who was barely accepted even though he often saved the others with his gifts for magic. How the hell a rabbit even could do magic to begin with... Yeah, Tony still didn't get it. But he could happily listen to Loki talking all night, every word like honey dripping into his ears.

And when Loki stopped talking, he stayed where he was and instead listened to Loki's slow, even heartbeat and breathing, only jostled by the regular turning of a page. It felt a lot more restful than it used to, and he didn't go to his own bed until lights out.

* * *

It took almost another week for Tony to decide that he'd had the solution to his problem right in front of him all along. Literally.

He had felt lonely. He knew Loki had too. In a lot of ways they still were lonely, while living side by side, and it didn't have to be that way, did it? He had been so intent on just being stuck with Loki for the rest of his life, but maybe he didn't have to be? Maybe he could just _be with_ Loki instead? It didn't have to be much of a stretch. At least he didn't think so from what he knew about Loki so far.

Even though his cellmate was withdrawn and not very outspoken, Tony had learned that he was really intelligent, and he had a quietly sarcastic sense of humor that always made Tony crack up when it shone through. So used to scaring the shit out of everyone who came close, Loki had held a lot back to begin with, but Tony was sure that he had started seeing Loki warm up, just a little bit.

He was going to be spending a lot of years with this man. His life depended on his protection. Either Tony could be angry, bitter and resentful, or he could make the most of the situation and get what he missed the most – real companionship.

So when lights out came that night, and they both got out of their clothes and Loki crawled into bed, Tony just sat hesitating on the edge of his own for a while. Then he got up again, took the two short steps across the room, turned, and sat down on the edge of Loki's instead. The pale man had been turned to the wall, but when he felt the dip of the mattress under Tony's wight he flipped over on his back to look up, and the light from the window was just enough that Tony could make out the sight of his raised eyebrows.

”Got room for one more?” He kept his voice low and as soft as he could, trying to keep the strain of nerves out of it. If he had misjudged everything this could be a move that undid a lot of the distance they had covered between each other, and he would have to be prepared to retreat quickly.

Loki stared at him for at least a minute. Then his head moved in a tiny nod before he turned over on his other side, shifted to get his back against the wall, and lifted the thin covers to indicate that Tony was welcome to join him under them.

Which he was quick to do. The cell was pretty cold at night now that autumn was coming. He shaped himself to a little spoon in front of Loki, his knees bent to fit against the longer legs, his shoulder blades against the bare chest, where muscle was almost just as hard as bone. Even more so since Loki was so damn tense. And then Loki's arm was folded in between their bodies; apparently he was unwilling to wrap it around Tony now, wich felt strange, given that Loki spent so much time holding on to him during the day. They lay like that for what felt like a long time, silent and unexpectedly awkward.

”You don't have to do this.” 

Tony almost startled when Loki's velvety voice suddenly sounded in the cell, breaking the silence apart despite its softness, but he managed to stay still and catch his breath so he could keep his own answer calm.

”I know”, he murmured, half into his part of the pillow, but sure Loki could hear him. ”I want to.”

More silence. Then came a slow, shuddering and very long exhale. Loki must have held his breath. The arm he had almost forced in between them was pulled free, and Tony felt it move against his side, a hand coming to slip around his waist, over his stomach, up to his sternum, until the arm was cradling his ribs. Tony made sure to keep his own arm out of the way, so Loki wouldn't think his move wasn't welcome, and given that the arm just settled there in the end, it seemed to work.

They were still silent, not completely relaxed, but it felt a lot less awkward.

Tony was starting to realize that this wouldn't happen the way he had thought it would. He had guessed that Loki would be feeling pretty desperate after who-knows-how-long he had been all alone in this bed, in this cell, in this prison, but it didn't seem like it by the way he was just resting behind Tony now, unmoving and apparently not planning on making a move either.

So when Loki finally _did_ make a move, he definitely hadn't thought it would consist of Loki tilting his head closer and slowly, carefully, thoroughly smelling Tony's hair. His nose moved among the thick, brown half curls, rubbing a bit at Tony's scalp, and the warmth of his breaths changing to a cold little draft when he pulled in the scent through his nostrils gave Tony chills. But not in an unpleasant way, really.

He was so focused on the sensation that he at first didn't notice when Loki's hand on his chest started moving south. It wasn't until those foreign fingertips just started sliding in under the waistband of the underwear that was all he had on, that he realized what had happened. The light touch made his abs clench, and he wasn't even sure if it was just because of the slight tickle, or because he didn't like where things were going. Judging by the way Loki stopped and then retreated the half inch he had advanced in under the waistband clearly showed which interpretation he had made though. And Tony didn't object, because he wasn't sure Loki had thought wrong. He was sure he didn't want Loki to stop altogether at least, and since that didn't happen he just stayed still and went with it.

Those gentle fingertips kept moving down from the elastic of his underwear, but now with the worn fabric between them. And, yeah, that worked. It was still Loki's hand mapping the layout of his crotch, but with an extra layer making sure it wasn't skin-on-skin, it felt a bit safer, somehow. So he let himself more or less melt back into Loki's chest while those long, elegant fingers with gentle presses and soft strokes found the outline of his cock, still soft, the slightly damp warmth over his balls, and then made their way back to the head, tucked away under both cloth and foreskin. Then he breathed one last, long sigh into Tony's hair and just let his pleasantly warm palm settle over Tony's cock and fitted his own body even closer as well.

Tony thought he felt something that might have been the butterfly light ghost of a kiss brush over the back of his neck, but he wasn't sure.

Everything was still then, and they fell asleep like that, folded in as close as they could, Loki's hand resting over Tony's crotch, their lower legs tangled with each other and the covers.

* * *

They started to share a bed more or less every night after that. And the ritual was always the same; Tony was the one who came to slip into Loki's bed, Loki was the big spoon, no hands moved in under anyone's underwear. Which in no way meant it was all innocent and chaste between them, though.

Loki's nose seemed to have made itself a new home in Tony's hair, their mostly bare skin made their bodies feel like they were molded to each other, and even though Loki kept his hands above the waist most of the time, he did a great job of exploring the upper half of his cellmate's body. Tony was pretty sure Loki was on first name basis with every muscle and bone in his abdomen and chest after a couple of nights like that, and that was before Loki got acquainted with his nipples...

If someone had asked Tony before that night if he seriously considered his nipples an erogenous zone, he probably would have said no. He had never disliked having them touched, but it was one of those things that had always just been a stop on the way down to his genitals, and whatever had happened there had always overshadowed what had been done to his nipples. Well, there was no intention of moving things further down this time, so he was given a lot more time to figure out how wrong he had been in thinking his nipples mostly useless.

Loki circled them with his fingers, moved into spirals, brushed, stroked, pinched, even pulled, then pinched harder, until Tony was whining, before he licked his fingers and went back to drawing lazy, soothing circles. And started all over again. 

By the end of it Tony was sporting a painful hard-on he for some reason didn't know what he should, or wanted, to do with. When he moved restlessly over the mattress, rubbing against the sheets, he felt a very similar hardness against the small of his back. Still, they did nothing about it. Didn't even mention it. Just listened to each other's uneven, heavy breathing until they had calmed down again and could curl up to sleep.

Tony had taken a couple of girl's virginities in his life, and even though he had made an effort to be gentle and careful and had definitely never wanted anyone to get hurt on his watch, he could in no way boast to have taken anything like this amount of time in moving forward. It had still been one night things, over and done with the next day. And maybe that was why it felt all right to go this slow now? If he had messed up sex before, on the outside, he didn't have to see those people. Ever again. If they messed up this thing, here, they still had to face each other every single day, forever.

It made sense not to rush.

On top of that, Tony also had the feeling that Loki was not-so-mildly overwhelmed by what was happening. By what it felt like. And Tony couldn't blame him. There were after all moments when he felt pretty damn overwhelmed himself, and his unplanned period of celibacy had only lasted a couple of months.

He could wait a little longer.

* * *

When they were getting closer in such a pleasant way, it was so easy to forget that they were after all maintaining a delicate balance in their lives. And it almost felt like a surprise when Tony was reminded that Loki only had to turn his back for a moment for disaster to strike.

At first it didn't feel like a disaster. Of course. Disasters rarely advertise themselves as such. 

They were out in the yard, Tony wandering back and forth along the outer wall to stretch his legs, when he saw a really tall, black man approach Loki, who was perched on one of the heavy, wooden tables. Tony noticed that the man had the strangest eyes he had ever seen, they looked like they were all made of gold. But then he didn't think about that anymore and just kept walking. Until he reached the end of one of his little rounds, tuned, and suddenly stood face to face with a stranger. He startled, blinked, and glanced over the shoulder of the thin, worn and strained looking man in front of him, realizing that Loki was half way across the yard from him now, and still focused on the dark man with the golden eyes. But then he himself had to focus on his own stranger, who was suddenly trying to crowd him into the wall, a hand pawing restlessly at his chest, aiming for his waist and probably below.

”Hey, dude!” Tony grabbed after the hand, trying to get it off himself, and turned a scowl at the lined, scruffy face. ”What the hell!” He had become so used to everyone knowing who he was and who he belonged to, that he had thought himself safe from this sort of random thing. When he tried to catch the man's eyes and tell him that he better back off, he realized that he probably wouldn't be able to.

The guy's eyes were staring stiffly, flitting around like nervous, scurrying animals, his pupils blown unnaturally wide. Tony could see the muscles in his jaws clenching as he ground his teeth, and his hot breath had a sharp, chemical tint to it. He was high as a fucking kite. Most likely he wouldn't even hear what Tony said.

”Yeah, whoa, easy there!” He made an extra effort to catch the stranger's hands to get them off himself instead. ”How about you get the fuck away from me and walk this off, buddy?” There was no reaction, but Tony hadn't expected one. It was mostly his own nerves talking. This didn't have to get dangerous, but he knew that it could, and quickly too. Impulse control and uppers weren't really compatible.

And Tony was right – it turned dangerous. Quickly. But not in the way he had been afraid of.

So fast his eyes barely registered the movements the junkie was suddenly ripped off him, turned around and had his back slammed up against the wall. Leaning down over the frail, twitching form, which at once looked tiny, was Loki. His black hair had fallen free around his shoulders, his thin lip was curled up in a feral looking snarl, and the green eyes were burning. Even in the drab, blue-gray prison garb he all at once looked like some kind of dark, avenging angel.

Tony felt almost spellbound by the both impressive and slightly terrifying sight, and he nearly missed the glint of metal between Loki's fingers. When he saw it, it was already too late. The stranger bent double over the shank in his gut with a groan – apparently the pain was enough to get through his high, at least.

”Fuck!” Tony quickly cast a glance around, and realized that two guards were already advancing on them. One of them was a tall figure with ridiculously wide shoulders and blond hair showing under the hat. Rogers. Perfect. He was one of the guards who acted like he actually considered Tony a human being. Tony could probably play him. If he put a move on. ”Shit! Quick! Loki, give me that thing!” He hissed the words and stepped closer, made it look like he was helping Loki to crowd the stranger into the wall, and reached for the sharpened metal blade Loki had already pulled back, perhaps ready to strike again. ”Now, damnit! No time!”

Loki turned to stare at him, eyes empty.

”Here!” Tony gave up trying to get the order through to him, and just reached out and grabbed the bloody shank. ”Wipe your hand!”

At last, something of what was happening seemed to get a reaction out of Loki. He blinked, nodded, and reached his hand in under his pants to wipe it against his underwear. Still smart enough not to just wipe it on the outside of his clothes, even when his mind wasn't completely back from its rage vacation.

But Tony didn't have time to be impressed, because now the guards had reached them, Rogers in the lead, and Tony turned to face them. Making sure the shank and the blood on his fingers were both clearly visible.

”Stark!” The bright, handsome face turned into a stormy scowl when Rogers took in the scene, and realized exactly who was holding the weapon – and who wasn't. ”I thought you would know better than to get yourself into this kind of trouble!”

”Come on, Rogers, of course you didn't!” Tony forced a cocky grin onto his face. ”Flattery won't get you anywhere with me.”

When Rogers turned even darker in the eyes and stopped casting suspicious glances Loki's way, Tony knew the distraction had worked. Someone was going down for this, and going down hard, but it wouldn't be Loki, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Fourteen days in isolation was what the little stunt in the yard cost Tony. It would have been more, if not for the fact that Loki had managed to miss all the junkie's vital organs and he would be just fine as soon as the cut healed. 

Even so, it was still the worst two weeks of Tony's life. Here he had nothing but a bed and a bucket, and that wasn't his favourite kind of company. The tiny cell had no windows, just a lamp that was lit for sixteen hours, off for eight, and then lit another sixteen, and around it went. Tony spent as much time as he could stand curled up under the blanket, smelling of mould, trying to sleep the hours away.

The boredom and restlessness almost drove him nuts. The silence chafed at his ears until he wanted to scream at the gray walls. The emptiness of the room burned against his skin.

Small, nasty voices in his head reminded him that this was what he was good for in life – taking the fall.

He had messed everything up. His company had been a hollowed out shell around theft and lies and betrayal, and he had never known. When he had turned away from sex, booze and rock-and-roll long enough to get the hints, it had already been too late. Thank fuck Pepper had been there to help him, or he would have been dead. And then all he could do for her, was take the fall. When it was really, actually, Pep who had killed Stane, Tony had stepped in front of her and taken the blame for all of it. All him. She was just another victim. It was all Tony.

Now here he was again. And this time he was protecting Loki. Who was everything Pepper wasn't.

But of course he knew that in reality, he was protecting himself.

He could deal with two weeks in isolation. It felt like it sucked more than anything had ever sucked before, yeah, but he would live. If Loki had been the one sitting here right now, Tony wouldn't have lived.

That was a cold, hard fact he didn't doubt even for one second during those fourteen days.

It was the fact he was clinging to, the one that held him together.

* * *

Rogers was the one who led him back to the cell when they let him out again. Tony had enough cockiness left to give the tall man a little flare of a salute before Rogers shook his head and turned to leave.

Then Tony stood in the doorway, staring into the cell that had become 'home' sometime during the weeks before he had been forced to leave it. On the bed on the left was Loki, back to the wall, legs folded like a tailor's, book in his hands, exactly like he had been sitting the first time they met. He was lowering the book and raising his head the same way, too. And opened his mouth to say something.

Tony's hand shot up, palm out, to stop him. ”Please, don't talk. I just... I need a minute.” The light and details and faces and sounds where making him dizzy and disoriented and a part of him wanted to crawl back into the hole he had just left.

When he looked at Loki's face, he realized that he didn't have to explain any of that. Loki just nodded, and then moved his right arm, lifting it up, inviting Tony to sit by his side.

Slowly, knees wobbly, Tony walked up to the bed, sat down and shuffled back until he was by the wall, under the offered arm, leaning into Loki's ribs. Then he gradually slumped into that warm, solid form, closed his eyes and felt the slim but surprisingly heavy arm land around his shoulders. With a sigh he nuzzled the cloth over Loki's chest, and felt like he had found his way back into the only safe place in a hostile universe.

He didn't move an inch until lights out. And even then Loki had to prod gently at him to move, and help him out of his shoes and clothes so they could get into bed.

For the first time, Loki didn't pull Tony with his back to Loki's chest. No, he shifted and pulled at him until they were front to front, legs more tangled than ever, arms around each other's backs, Tony's forehead by Loki's chin. They stayed like that a while, just still and silent, like they had been since Tony came back.

”They think I made you do it”, Loki murmured at last, lips and breath brushing against Tony's hairline. ”That I forced you to take the fall for me. That you are miserable, nothing but an ant under the heel of my boot, living in perpetual fear of my displeasure.”

Rubbing his own lips against the hollow of Loki's throat, Tony thought about this for a while. ”Is that a bad thing?”

He felt Loki's lips tense and stretch in a smile against his skin. ”No, it's perfect.” The long fingers pressed harder into the small of Tony's back, urging him even closer. ”If they thought you were pleased in any way, they would come after you again. As long as they think you're already suffering, they will most likely leave you alone.”

Giving just a hint of a nod, Tony happily inched into Loki's chest. ”No problem”, he said, breathing in the warmth over Loki's clavicles. ”I can play the ant, if you don't mind playing the boot.”

The hand on Tony's back moved up along his spine then, following the dip and curve of it to his shoulder blades, running between them to the nape of his neck, into his hair, where it fisted into the thickness of it. Not painfully hard, only a firm grip to pull his head up and then back. Tony just had the time to catch a glimpse of the pleased little glint in Loki's eyes before the pale face moved closer to his, and before he had time to figure out what was coming there were thin, cool, smooth lips against his own.

It was the first time they had ever kissed, and for a moment Tony's mind just blanked, and then it felt like it turned to mush. He heard himself make a whimpering, needy sort of noise in the back of his throat, while his own fingers dug into Loki's narrow waist. His lips softened and parted under Loki's even before Tony really decided to let him in, but when a careful, gentle, almost apologetic tip of a tongue came to slide over the inside of his bottom lip, the decision was final. Tony moved his leg up to hook it around Loki's hip, pulling the lower half of his body close as well, as he used his own tongue to coax Loki's closer, make him stop being so hesitant and just _get on with it_ already. And maybe it was the tips of their tongues meeting, or maybe it was their hips pushing together, but whatever it was that did it, it made all the difference.

Everything soft and reserved was suddenly gone, and all at once Loki was invading him. Completely. It was a hot, wet mess and Tony loved every single second of it. The rest of his body felt very far away, but he was vaguely aware that they were both achingly hard, pressed together, soon more or less rutting into each other, Loki's hand clenching and releasing and clenching again in his hair, willing him closer in one moment and pulling him back the next. Any slow advance, any attempt at teasing, all the patience and waiting... Gone. All gone. And Tony really wasn't sad to see it go, even though he'd thoroughly enjoyed it while it lasted.

There was no need to hold back. They were in this together, to the end, and they both knew it.

Loki's other hand pushed its way in between Tony's waist and the mattress, reached down to his ass, inside his underwear for the first time. But it just grabbed a firm, almost possessive hold of the curve of muscle and dragged him even closer until Loki's hard-on was pressed into the dip of Tony's hip so hard Loki actually made himslef whine into Tony's mouth.

Yeah, there it was! That desperation Tony had suspected was hiding under the surface all along. And suddenly all he wanted was more of it.

He nipped at Loki's tongue, lapped at the ridges of his palate, clashed their teeth together, and felt the last remnants of Loki's self control vanish into nothing. When he slipped his own hand down inside the back of Loki's underwear, grabbing at him the same way Loki was already doing to his own backside, he felt the vibrations of a groan that was pretty much really a growl. A heartbeat later he was on his back, Loki's weight pressing him down, hip moving in a frantic search for friction. They were breathing so hard now they couldn't keep kissing; they were left just panting into each other's cheeks, temples, necks and ears, hands grabbing painfully hard at hair and ass cheeks.

No grace, no style, no technique, no dignity or care what so ever. All sweaty, greedy need. Trying to rub themselves into each other.

Loki came like he was being torn apart from the inside. He stiffened and curled up on top of Tony, shuddering around the last, desperate breath caught in his lungs. It seemed like it would never end, but when it did, Loki was still obviously aware that he had left Tony behind when he had fallen off the edge of the world. So he didn't move away. He just got his hand out of Tony's underwear, moved the hand to his front and found his cock through the fabric, half curled his fingers around the length of it and pressed the heel of his hand to the base, and that was enough. Tony bucked up into that grip and pressure, arched up, forced his head back in the pillow, and fell apart.

Back in reality, Tony noticed that Loki had rolled off him and was now resting by his side, still close and warm enough that their sweaty skin was touching. He was half on his side, half rolled over, head on the pillow so all Tony could see was his profile, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. As if he could feel Tony watching him, he opened his eyes and tilted his head to the side. For a while they just looked at each other in the faint lights from the window, before Loki gave him a little smile and then suddenly sat up. Tony blinked, wondering where he was going, but then Loki just pushed the covers the final bit to the side, pulled his messy underwear off, used them to rub himself clean, and threw them on the floor. Then he turned to Tony, grasped the sides of his underwear, but didn't pull at them until his questioning look, asking permission, had been answered with a nod. He undressed Tony and then used the stained garment to rub Tony clean as well, more gently than he had cleaned himself up, before throwing it on top of his own discarded piece of clothing.

Being naked together wasn't new to them; they always shared a shower, after all. Of course, this was all different, but given that they were both drained and limp, loose and relaxed, it felt perfectly right and natural to fit themselves together in the usual spooning position before Loki pulled the covers back over them, and nuzzled the back of Tony's head in the by now familiar way.

”I take it then that you are still comfortable playing the role of the ant under my boot?” Loki practically smirked the words into Tony's hair, once they had settled.

”Yeah, I'm feeling pretty damn comfortable.” Chuckling, he snuggled back further into the embrace. ”For now.”

”Oh?” He could feel Loki tense up slightly after the last words, holding him tighter, perhaps still irrationally worried Tony would try to get up and leave. ”And then?”

Tony lifted a hand to curl his fingers around Loki's wrist, holding on and calming him at once, showing as clearly as he could that he didn't plan on leaving. Ever. ”And then”, he murmured, still smiling, ”we teach them all that they should have known better than to mess with us in the first place...”

**Author's Note:**

> I had some fun with the literary aspect of this.  
> Of course, Loki's prison nick name is borrowed - with a lot of love - from Gaiman's novel _American Gods_.  
>  _Crime and Punishment_ was one of my favourite reads when I studied literature, and I think Loki would appreciate it too.  
>  Not to mention the fact that I'm sure he would just love _Watership Down_ , and get a lot of feels about the relationship between the brothers Hazel and Fiver...


End file.
